Lotus
by LostOneLawliet
Summary: She was a bud that had yet to bloom, and he was a flower that was wilting away. RenxAkira and my view on their story.
1. Seed

Sohma Ren, suffice it to say, makes her name from her flawless beauty. Pure, smooth skin, perfectly-shaped eyes, each feature delicate and slender; even her hair falls so beautifully and silkily down her back in dark curtains. Rumor has it that her curves are even so prominent as to cause the typically baggy creases in her uniform. Ren is pure envy and delight among even the youngest of maids, entering their positions at thirteen, and the eldest, turning their wise eyes upon her and mapping out her future within whispers. Ren herself is flawed within reason. Her sugary sweet smile hides her intentions and those pouty lips and dark eyes, however convincing, are deceitful. Her words confound the senses, smooth like velvet and with a tinge of spite. The littlest girls look upon her as an angel and she strokes their hair and bribes them to do her work. The nosier maids say she must be full of herself due to her late father's position in the family. The more insightful maids know that Ren lives for nothing in life but the games, and she has his cunning, tricky businessman's mind.

The maids are known for gossiping, whether on the Sohma main estate or anywhere else in the world. There is a break room set aside for them, a simple luxury just because the house could afford it, neat and pristine. However, no one truly uses it- the gossip goes from mouth to ear, mouth to ear as they work during the day. Even in the dead of winter there is a fire of scandal around the estate. Male servants, truth be told, are not light gossipers either. They like the stories just as much, and most of them start the rumors to scare the girls into their arms. Tales of terror, indulgence, treachery… the most popular lingered around for years, and it told of a chalk-white face peering from the windows, deadly white all over and staring out with black soulless eyes.  
"There is no ghost on the estate," the seasoned head maid, Setsuko, snapped again and again, "but there will be one if you girls don't quit slacking off!" Her eyes met Ren's and she seemed to add an extra bristle to her anger before turning and stalking off. As she departed, the other girls grumbled to themselves, as girls are naught to do.

The dismal sound of water drip-dripping surpassed the dead silence and the chilling wind swept over the two; the maid, Ren, poised with a quite empty water bucket, and the ghostly young boy, bones shaking almost audibly. Ren's quick eyes picked out the damage and the yukata was clearly expensive. A pensive look passed her and she bit her lip. Proud as she was, her pride would not pay for clothing of such high caliber. She bowed her head deeply, her black satin braid falling forward over her shoulder.  
"My apologies," she said quietly. Her beauty and wit were both unsurpassed, and there was no doubt in the young maid's mind that she could trick her way out of this. She looked up through her lashes for a reprieve. "I can have new clothes sent to your rooms if you leave me your name." There was a flirty undertone to her words, and the man blinked. His face was pale, his silvery hair frosted over slightly as the cold air met his soaking hair. White hot puffs steamed from his mouth and he answered, in a voice as chillingly beautiful as he was himself.  
"Sohma Akira," he stated, and he waited for her comprehension. She raised her head, astonished, and gave an inward wince as her eyes took him in once more.  
"I don't suppose you're in league with the head of the house… Akira-sama."  
A slow grin captured the man's features, his true beauty drawing out in evident silken strands- or perhaps that was the way his hair shone while wet. "The same."


	2. Water

Setsuko's lips formed a hard line as she drew back the thermometer, watching the mercury as it made its judgment within the small glass tube. Her creasing eyes squinted at the numbers and she "tsk"ed rather prominently, turning steeled, pointed eyes at the maid standing against the wall.  
"Look what you've done!" she snapped, but after a moment her attention was back to the silver-haired, red-faced youth before her, who chuckled gently under the covers of his futon. He made a move to sit up, propping himself up with a thin, wiry arm. His movement displaced the heating pad under him, which slipped to the floor to Setsuko's chagrin.  
"Lay back down, Akira-sama," she urged gently, setting the back of her hand to his brow. "You're very sick." The young man, despite the heat, the way his bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat, smiled brightly. "Aren't I always, Setsuko?"  
"Save your breath," the maid warned, slipping the heating pad between his back and the sheets as she laid him down gently, pulling the covers up to his chin. "Your fever is rising by the hour and it's lasted far longer than we'd like. Do you want to be stuck in bed come New Years'?" Her gaze moved to Ren and she spoke sharply. "Your antics caused this… you will stay with Akira-sama and watch over him. Do not leave his side for anything."  
Ren's smirk could have been passed off as a smile. Her hands clasped together in front of her and she tilted her head. "I will do my best… though you seem more suited to babysit him."  
"I have responsibilities of my own," Setsuko was quick to answer. She looked to the ailing head of the house and brushed his bangs from his forehead, leaning to kiss his brow. The young man simply smiled back up at her, sweet blue eyes gleaming. "But the liberties of an old woman take."  
Even Ren could see the false care etched in the lines of the woman's face. As she moved to leave, Ren assumed the charade. She knelt by Akira's head, using the small bucket aside him to dampen a rag and wrung it out, placing it against his forehead. The cool fabric relaxed him and he closed his eyes, a small smile touching his lips. Then again, the young maid couldn't remember a time when the man wasn't smiling. She had decided that it was annoying, but his status didn't allow for the petty discomforts of his suitors. If she had learned anything from her father, it was persuasion. Pulling the target in closer and closer…  
Wondering blue eyes looked up at her and it was a moment before she realized that he had asked her a question. She smiled too sweetly. "I beg your pardon, Akira-sama?"  
"Ren-san… am I right? Your father is one of my economic advisors."  
"There's no need for formalities, Akira-sama. I am very pleased to meet you… even if it is on your sickbed," she said, smoothing his covers in place.  
"Believe me, I meet many people on my sickbed." There was almost a touch of sadness to his eyes, but his smile carried on, strong in the face of his weakness.  
Ren found herself voicing her thoughts before she could stop them, a nasty habit she'd yet to break. "All the other maids see you looking out the window and your pale face makes them think you're a ghost."  
She expected the boy to take offense and quietly reprimanded herself for the insensitive words, but the boy only grinned and responded, "Have you been a maid for long?"  
Ren blinked, not expecting a question in return. He seemed unfazed.  
"Long enough," was the girl's answer, and it make him laugh. It was a bright sound, like silver bells ringing on a cold winter night. The beauty of it was soon shattered by a harsh cough, and Akira shook as he sat up, moving the crook of his elbow over his mouth. The rag fell into his lap as his thin form was racked with the effort of his coughing fit, his shoulders trembling. Ren moved a hand to his back and rubbed in gentle circles, finding his flesh hot enough to burn through the fabric of his nightclothes, moist with a thin layer of sweat. He inhaled sharply, an attempt to catch his breath, and she helped him to lay back down, wetting the rag again and placing it on his forehead once more.  
"You should have medicine for that," Ren suggested, and she went to stand when the boy grabbed the hem of her yukata, tugging her closer to him with a gentle shake of his head. He grinned up at her, tilting his head ever so gently. "I've drank my weight in it already," he said. "Will you stay at my side? It is the only medicine I need." Was that loneliness in his eyes? A glimmer of over-exasperated solitude? His smile made no sense. Did a sick man have a reason to smile like that?  
"You should be sleeping," Ren smirked gently, and the head smiled, relaxing onto his pillow.  
"I should, but it's hard to with a fever keeping me awake. Didn't you want to repay me for that, Ren?"  
"Mm, you're clever. Not just a pretty face, then?" Her fingers moved to his hair, brushing the strands from his eyes as she adjusted the cloth laying against his forehead. He met her eyes and a knowing smile graced his lips.  
"Not just the head of the family," he amended. Ren quirked a brow, wondering if he perhaps saw through her charade, but that impassable smile shielded whatever he felt as he closed his eyes and was taken by slumber. She watched his face as he slept, as it was different than when he was awake. His brows relaxed, the corners of his lips stopped that incessant lift, and a look of pure peace and tranquility touched his features in an unearthly way. There even seemed to be a glow to his skin that grew from more than his fever, bathing his features in a new light. His beauty, surely, was unsurpassed, and his reputation gleamed its own reward in the currency of sociality.  
This man, Ren decided in the low candlelight, was going to be hers.


End file.
